


In an Ideal World I Would Have All Ten Fingers on My Left Hand so My Right Could Just Be a Fist for Punching

by kikitheslayer



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Denny's, Fist Fights, Frenemies, Gen, Modern Retelling, Texting, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5473304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikitheslayer/pseuds/kikitheslayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU where every duel in Hamilton is a fist fight in a Denny's parking lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In an Ideal World I Would Have All Ten Fingers on My Left Hand so My Right Could Just Be a Fist for Punching

**Author's Note:**

> Has someone done this already? Idk, but I do know it's four thirty, and I have now written two fics set in Denny's.

1\. 

“Alex,” said John.

Alexander ignored him, continuing to fiddle nervously with John’s collar.

“Alex.”

He glanced up, his hands still gripping John’s shirt. “Yeah?”

John smiled fondly. “I’ll be fine, okay? You should be worrying about Lee.”

Alexander tossed a disgusted glance at the other side of the restaurant. Charles Lee was sitting in a booth, leaning across the table and locked in conversation with Aaron Burr. “Can you believe Burr?” he asked. “Seconding for that loser?”

John laughed. “I know. You’d think Aaron would have been the first to offer to punch him.”

Alexander rolled his eyes. “Burr doesn’t fight people. He gets into drama, freezes up, and hopes that if he doesn’t move he’ll turn invisible.”

“I liked it when Lee asked him to help him out,” said John. “You could pinpoint the exact moment the heart attack hit.”

Alex stepped back and crossed his arms. “I think he’s drunk. Like, not super drunk, but drunk enough to actually show some emotion. Or experience an emotion.”

John stretched. “I can’t wait to deck that guy.”

Alexander grinned. “Please, god, please hit him. I’m setting up a stream for all of Washington’s class, so it’ll be majorly disappointing for everyone if you lose.”

John laughed and rested a hand on Alexander’s shoulder.

A small crowd approached them from the back of the fast food joint.

“You ready for this?” asked Hercules, slapping his hands on his knees. He was grinning widely.

“He better be,” said Angelica, resting a hand on her hip. She paused, then shrugged and waved a hand. “And if he isn’t, I’ll take care of it.”

John grinned. “Good backup plan.”

Eliza pulled herself on top of a table. She pulled a bottle out of her purse. “Anyone want a shot?”

“Eliza!” yelped Peggy.

“What?” she replied, leaning back and taking a sip. “Y’all are fighting in a Denny’s parking lot. Like, this is not something anyone gets through without alcohol.”

They all exchanged glances, and Lafayette took the bottle from Eliza. He took a swig and passed it along the circle.

“And another thing,” said Eliza, waving her arms, “what the hell are seconds? Are you guys dueling over honor? Cause Charles spreading some dumb-ass rumor ‘cause he failed Professor Washington’s final is a pretty flimsy excuse, don’t you think?”

“Who cares?” announced Angelica. “Someone’s needed to punch him all semester. We’re finally getting to it.”

Eliza raised her hand for a high-five. “I feel that!”

\---

The parking lot was dark, lit by the ambient light coming through the Denny’s glass doors, several cell phones, and Lafayette’s turned on headlights. The crowd had gathered in a circle around Lee and Burr, Laurens and Hamilton. A loud, raucous chant rose through the night: “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

“You’re going down,” growled John.

“Get him, babe,” called Alexander, looking briefly away from his cell phone.

Lee swallowed.

The crowd began to count. “--Seven, eight, nine--!”

John punched him in the face.

“Ow,” groaned Lee, rubbing his jaw.

The pre-med student turned around and hurried forward with first aid.

John stepped back and smiled smugly before drowning in a sea of high-fives.

Alexander pulled him into a hug. Just as their arms were wrapping around each other, Alexander’s phone went off.

**G. Wash, 2:47 am**

[Hamilton. Meet me at my office hours on Monday.]

Yeah, he really shouldn’t have streamed it.

2.

“Did you get into a fight?” demanded Alexander, storming into the principal’s office.

“Sorry,” said Philip sheepishly. He was sitting on a grey chair in the hallway of the school office, his hands tucked under his legs.

Alexander stood in front of him with his arms crossed. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“He insulted you!” protested Philip. “Remember when you came to my language arts class last week? He kept talking about how dumb your speech was.”

Alexander opened his mouth to speak before running a hand through his hair and sitting down next to him. “Who started it?”

“He did! I asked him to apologize. He wouldn’t. So, we had to settle it. I wasn’t ever going to hit him, I was going to turn around, but--”

“But he hit you first,” finished Alexander, gesturing to Philip’s bandaged nose.

“Yeah.”

“Wow,” said Alexander. “I’m really guessing this isn’t what the Big Brothers program had in mind.”

“Nope.”

Alexander bit his lip. “And you really fought him in a Denny’s parking lot?”

Philip shrugged. “School doesn’t care. I’m in trouble just for participating.”

Alexander tried his best to look stern. “Well, that’s fair. You shouldn’t get into fights. And I’m definitely not saying congrats right now.”

“Right,” said Philip with a grin.

“Cause that would make me a bad role model.”

“Right.”

Alexander glanced in both directions. “Good job, though.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t fight.”

“I know.”

“Unless they deserve it.”

“He did!”

The principle stepped into the hall and they both jumped.

3.

They stood on opposite sides of the parking lot. The same lights glowed as last time, the same people stood around them, chanting the same word, but it felt somehow more serious. Alexander gulped, typing a quick message.

 **A. Ham, 1:24 am**  
[It doesn’t have to be this way.]

 **A. Burr, 1:23 am**  
[you openly insulted me. you ruined my chances for student gov.]

 **A. Ham, 1:23 am**  
[I know. And I’m not sorry.]

 **A. Ham, 1: 25 am**  
[I’ve always considered you a friend.]

 **A. Burr, 1: 25 am**  
[show it better.]

 **A. Ham, 1:26 am**  
[You think only of yourself. I won’t say sorry for calling you out on your shit.]

 **A. Burr, 1:26 am**  
[fine, bro. let’s go.]

Alexander shook his head and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He stood across from Aaron. The crowd began to count.

The numbers rosa. Alexander felt a sweat break out on the back of his neck. He tensed up, and began to turn around.

He wasn’t fast enough to dodge the other man’s fist. He stumbled backward, catching the sight of Aaron’s eyes widening as he stepped back. 

“Wait--” began Aaron.

Another pre-med student passed Alexander an ice-pack. Alexander grimaced and asked, “You really don’t work out much do you?”

Aaron shook his head.

Alexander shrugged. “I could have kicked your ass if I wanted to.”

Aaron, still looking a little spooked, just shrugged.

Alexander heaved a sigh and rested a hand on Aaron’s shoulder as they walked across the parking lot with the rest of the dispersing crowd. “You punched me in the face. We cool now?”

Aaron laughed. “Yeah, man, we’re cool. I’ll run again next year.”

“Goddammit. I’m going to get punched again, aren’t I?”

“Probably.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a quote from Dwight Schrute on The Office.


End file.
